Come Into My Parlor
by The Oven Glove
Summary: Spider-man learns that sometimes, secret identities are impossible to keep secret, no matter how hard you try. And Peter Parker learns that you can't always trust the people you should be able to. Every power he has may not be enough to keep everyone's favorite web slinger from falling under the spell of one of those people.
1. Sometimes Betrayal is Subtle

A/N: Okay you guys, I'm not gonna lie. This is a story far edgier and darker than I have ever written before. I'm gonna squeeze in as much humor and action as I can, but this will be a very dark story, dealing with violence, drugs, and (if you guys think I should continue this) pedophilia in later chapters. I'm seriously considering weather or not to post the rest of this, so I need you guys to let me know what you think. As it stands I have this story planned out pretty far, and several chapters are already written. This chapter is gonna be about as light and happy as things are gonna get, also by far the shortest chapter. Next chapter, everything goes to hell with some _major_ Peter whumpage.

Seriously. I feel bad for what I'm gonna do to this kid.

Also, I was inspired by and picturing Tom Holland Spider-man in my head when writing this. So in this story that's how I'm describing his physical appearance.

So, should I continue posting? Let me know.

* * *

Come Into My Parlor

The only reason no-one had figured out Spider-man's identity had to have been because everyone in New York was a complete fucking moron, you thought to yourself.

Of course, you were certain that being both a master thief and Peter Parker's English teacher had helped narrow down the process of elimination.

"The Shadow" was the name that the Daily Bugle had given your alter-ego, and you were more than satisfied with that. Your expert ability to hide in plain sight consistently made it look like you had disappeared without a trace from your crime scenes. You had met Spider-man on several occasions during your night time work. His voice and size had been enough to tell you that he was just a teenager. You taught the little bastards all day every day: you knew what a child trying to act grown sounded like. The clue that had tipped you off though had almost been an accident. The diamond laser cutter you used during break-ins had had to be used as a weapon when the boy got too close to catching you, and you had lashed out blindly, cutting a thin, shallow line across his left cheek. The next day, Peter Parker had strolled into your last period English class with the same scar, in the same place. It had taken an act worthy of an Oscar to refrain from freaking the fuck out. Instead you had managed to sound concerned and sincere when you tilted his head up with one finger under his chin and asked what happened, and if he was okay. The poor child had looked like a deer in headlights as he stuttered his way through an unnecessarily long and detailed lie about fixing the motor on Aunt May's vacuum cleaner and accidentally hitting himself in the face with the screwdriver. You had just tutted in false sympathy before moving on to finish passing out the days worksheet.

Well. At least now you had an honest reason for Peter's grades dropping right around the time Spider-man started showing up.

That night had been... not one of your best moments, even you had to admit.

Because while the Spider-man had never actually been able to catch you, he had come close on several occasions. The two of you even going so far as to get in some witty banter before and during your various altercations. You were in your thirties, and he was a fucking teenager. Well that had explained a few things. Like the fact that; weather you were being chased across the rooftops of Manhattan or standing stock still in front of thirty-five of his peers, both Peter Parker and Spider-man couldn't stop staring at your tits. Teenage boys were incredibly predictable. Your day-work clothes were all perfectly appropriate for a high school teacher. Different color button up shirts, with matching pencil skirts and blazers. You did perhaps indulge a bit in your day-work wardrobe with some very sexy high-heels, but that was beside the point. Your night-work costume, on the other hand, was absolutely not appropriate for anything other than thieving, or perhaps, a really kinky dominatrix. A skin tight black body suit had been designed to fit you so perfectly, that despite being able to clearly see the outline of your nipples and pussy, was both light and durable. Your boots had sound absorbing materials in them that made you nearly silent, and your gloves were equipped with several different deployable gadgets that could be used while working a job.

You had been half-way through a bottle of vodka before your drunken mind had finally come to the conclusion that you should use this information to help with your night work.

After sleeping off most of your hangover (thank Jesus it was a Saturday), you hastily shuffled through a stack of essays that you had just finished grading yesterday, looking for Parker's name. You finally found it, and underneath the abysmally low score of sixty-five percent, you used your red pen to tack on a note of "Please see me after class". The rest of the weekend was spent planning out exactly how to blackmail a child less than half your age. But that seemed to be the best way of looking at things, you later decided. Teenagers on the whole were easily embarrassed, and the male ego was fragile and easy to destroy at any age, so those were the aspects you focused on.

The following Monday had seemed to take forever to arrive, and the school day it's self had seemed to drag on even longer than usual. You passed back the papers that you had corrected on Friday, and kept and eye on Peter whenever you could. The kid was socially awkward at the best of times, but now he was so nervous he kept bouncing his knee to the point that you had to tell him to cut it out so that the other students could finish their short stories. You checked your watch (because the idea of a New York City public high school having a working clock was just as absurd as saying that Captain America was secretly Hydra all along), and when you noticed that you had about ten minutes left in class, you asked everyone to hand in their papers. You collected the papers from the front row before crossing back over the room so you could lean back on your desk as you spoke over the general shuffle of students getting ready to leave for the day.

You snapped your fingers to get everyone's attention, "Alright, listen up, you nerds." There were a few snickers from around the room, and it made you smile; hey, at least someone appreciated your humor. But the smile dropped as you crossed your arms over your ample chest, looking every inch like an angry librarian. "I'm not gonna mince words here. You guys bombed pretty hard on that last test." There was a round of groaning from the children and one hollow Thunk! as Flash dropped his head on his desk. "Calm down, kiddies, calm down. None of you have to worry too hard. I'm gonna give you guys an option." Nothing but silence and riveted attention now, "If you think you did the best you can do, hand me back the graded papers, and I'll put your grade into the computer. But, if you want to try again you can. I'm giving you guys an optional assignment. You can, on your own time, write me a three page essay," More groaning. "Stop it. Three pages- front and back, single space, twelve point font-" Louder groans. "Hey, you guys wanna keep pissing and moaning about it, that's fine. But I will keep the entire class late if the bell rings before I'm finished here." You held out both hands and raised your eyebrows in a 'what are you going to do' gesture, as your eyes swept over the classroom. Peter looked like he might be physically sick from nerves any moment, so you decided to have mercy on him and wrap things up. "The topic can be anything you guys want. History, ethics, current events. Hell, you can write about who your favorite Avenger is and why for all I care. I'm not looking for literary artwork. Just put enough effort into that I don't fall asleep while grading them, okay? I'm gonna grade this one a lot easier than the last one. But if you do decide to do it, know that it will replace this test score. And since I want you guys to rest those big brains of yours for a while, and I'm long over-due for a vacation" You paused for dramatic effect, and watched eyebrows raise all over the room, "It will be due in three weeks, just before the quarter ends." You watched some of your lazier students fist bump over that, and couldn't help but smile as you finished your announcements, "And one more thing!", you raised your voice enough to make the kids jump, "I said I wanted you guys to take this time to relax, and I mean that, so until the end of the quarter… no homework." The resulting explosion of teenage excitement was loud enough that a passing vice principal peeked through the back door of the classroom to make sure a fight hadn't broken out. You just waved him off as the final bell rang, and the kids started tripping over themselves to pack up and leave. Minus Peter.


	2. Sometimes It's Not

Mr. Parker hung back and said good-bye to Ned for the day as he slowly packed his bags. He even waited until the final student had cleared the room before leaving his desk to slowly approach your own. Poor kid looked like it was a death march. You took a bit more pity on him and gave your best comforting smile while you stood and pulled another chair over so that he could sit next to you at your desk. When he finally reached your side, his eyes flicked between you and the chair as if asking permission to sit, despite the fact that you had put it there just for him. You just huffed out an amused snort and gestured to the seat, which he finally slid into after taking a deep breath, looking like he had had to gather the courage to do so.

You shuffled the papers on your desk, already knowing that Peter was not one of the few that had handed their work back in. "Well," the poor kid jumped despite the fact that you'd tried to keep your voice low and soft, "Peter… calm down, you're okay. Just look at me."

The teen finally looked up from his knees, which were pressed together tightly, and he'd been hunched over, with his hands tucked under his legs. Despite the eye contact, he didn't change his posture, and you got the sense that it had nothing to do with the fact that he was nervous.

You tried not to smirk as you thwarted that attempt to hide from you by simply putting two fingers under his chin and pushing up, forcing him to either sit up straight or pull a muscle. Your gave him a quick once-over as you made a comment about children needed to sit up straight more often, and- yeah; poor kid had an inconvenient boner. You pretend not to notice, and instead started talking about his grades and quality of work he was handing in. Eventually you more or less press-ganged poor Parker into helping you after class for a few hours twice a week as a TA, when you threatened to send a note home for Aunt May to sign regarding his poor grades.

"So your not gonna...like...I don't know... give me detention or anything? And all I have to do is stay after school a few hours a week?" Peter asked, looking like he couldn't believe his luck.

"Don't get it twisted, kid." You responded, not bothering to look at him as you spun your chair to face your file cabinet on your other side. You opened the bottom drawer to retrieve a folder full of some of the lesser used documents, and when you finally found what you were looking for you spun back to face Peter again, your school supplied chair squeaking loudly as you did. You pulled one of the forms from the folder, scanned it quickly to make sure it was the right one, and handed it over to the young brunette. "I'm not just gonna hand you an 'A' in this class. If you want this TA thing to carry over to some extra credit on your grades, I'm going to need to see more effort going into your class time too, okay? I know it's been tough since your Uncle Ben passed, and I'm not going to just tell you to get over that. But at the same time, you have to start moving forward with your life. Make him even more proud than you already have."

Peter just ducked his head and mumbled something unintelligible, but you caught the words 'Sorry' and 'Try harder' as he stared resolutely at the light blue parent/guardian permission slip.

You sighed softly. It seemed like Parker had some self esteem issues that needed work. He had terrible problems with eye contact when he wasn't in his costume (or maybe he did, you couldn't tell with that damn mask on). So you reached out for the third time and gently cuffed the underside of his chin with one finger, making him jump slightly as his head quickly turned back to look at you. "Alright. I've given you your ultimatum. Now go catch your bus." You said with what you hoped was a comforting smile.

His eyes went wide for a split second, before he jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over as he stood, shouting out a "Thank you! See you tomorrow!" over his shoulder as he practically sprinted out of your classroom and down the hall.

You smiled and shook your head as that same pair of sneakers came thudding back in the direction of your classroom. Parker darted back through your still open door, snatched up the chair he had knocked over in his haste to leave, and put it back in it's proper place behind the desk. You just raised one eyebrow in question as he backed out of the room, this time blushing a lovely tomato red and rubbing the back of his neck as he stuttered out "S-sorry. That would have b-bothered me all night."

You couldn't help but smile, " _Go,_ Parker."

He spun on his heel, like he'd been waiting for your permission to just that, and ran back down the hall. You heard one of the another one of the staff yell at him for running, and you let out a short giggle, unable to help it. Peter Parker was the physical embodiment of the work 'Adorkable'.

It had taken almost the full three weeks to set up what you thought would be the perfect heist to catch a spider with. Now that you had trapped him under your thumb as Peter, you just had to do the same with him as Spider-man. And really, if it hadn't been for the fact that you had banned homework for all your classes, and had Parker, as your own personal slave- _ahem_ -... TA... to grade the minimal classwork you had been assigning, you never would have been able to do it so fast. A quick peek at the 'Parker, Peter' folder in the main office gave you the boys home address, and a few practice runs in your own car gave you his bus route home. A very boring, and lonely two weeks passed by faster than you would have thought; staking out on a rooftop two blocks over from Parker's apartment. Your military binoculars trained on the boys bedroom window, as it was the most likely route for a late night Spider-man sneak out. You learned that the poor child had to sneak out Spider-man style six nights a week, and stayed out until dawn unless it was a slow night. You had felt a burst of sadness for the poor boy. What had happened with his parents, and then his uncle. And after all that becoming a part time super-hero/part time student/full time teenager... must have been exhausting. Everything that you could remember about being a teenager was unpleasant at the best of times, and you'd had a pretty cushy middle-class upbringing.

A short consultation with a teacher in the math department reminded the poor man that he owed you a debt (you had bailed him out of a rather nasty debt, with some very nasty people in the black market) and suddenly he was happy to create an algorithm that could calculate Spidey's rough location at any given moment given the time/date and approximate number of crimes being broadcast on the police radio- within a certain margin of error, of course. Everything you knew about Spider-man and Peter Parker had combined with your casing skills had given you a perfect jewelry store heist about three blocks from Parkers apartment. At 8:15 that evening you would be clearing out a safe that was, honestly, well below your pay-grade. Spider-man should have been within a 3-block radius not long after, and thanks to the fact that you had been tampering with the stores alarm system all week, the cops would see the break in as another false alarm, and be much slower to respond. Normally you would have just disabled the system, but in this case, it had to go off to attract Spider-man. You didn't know it at the time, but the last night of screwing with the alarms, Spider-man had shown up just in time to see you take a running dive off the roof of the five-story building. In the half second it had taken him to make it to where he could have saved you from going _SPLAT!_ all over the pavement, you'd vanished. No stain on the side walk, no nothing. There and gone, like a ...Shadow. He had staked out the jewelry store for weeks hoping to catch you, but you never returned, so now he just managed to swing by the store on his way out and back each night, just to check on things.

And just under three weeks later you'd finally moved everything into place. It had taken too long to set up a spider trap that would be undetectable by his Spidey Sense, and also not kill the poor kid. Not to mention the other supplies. The items that would allow you to finally put the worry of getting caught out of your mind by getting Spidey off your case.

That's why you had ended up where you are now. Vaulting from one roof to another so Spidey could more easily track you, instead of hitting the sidewalk and blending in to the pedestrian crowd, just making sure to stay one step ahead of the kid and his web-shooters. You'd had to double back twice and take the long way to where you'd carefully set your trap in the middle of an abandoned warehouse district, but you'd finally managed to make it.

You intentionally stumbled as you hit the rough tarmac of the old rooftop, clutching your side and feigning breathlessness as you leaned on a partially crumbled stack of bricks that used to be a chimney. You dropped your mostly empty duffel bag of stolen loot at your feet and held up your pointer finger in his general direction, asking for a moment 'to catch your breath'. And Spider-man, ever the good sport, had just shrugged as he jogged to a slow walk mere feet away, "You know," he began condescendingly as he strolled casually over and sat next to you on the brick pile, ",if you're gonna get into a profession where you gotta run from the law, you should probably do more cardio." His advice was sound, but even he was breathing harder than normal. "I gotta say though; this was our longest fight yet, by far. And, hey! I finally caught you!" He sounded so proud of himself. Poor bastard.

"Yeah, yeah, kid." You said with a sigh of false resignation, "Ya did. Now help me up, I think I turned my ankle on that landing."

You hissed in pretend pain as you sat forward, and because the kid was the most cliched version of a modern Prince Charming, Spider-man jumped up with a soft, "Oh! oh, you-right, I'm sorry. Here, lemme just-" and helped you to your feet, throwing your arm over his shoulders to take the pressure off as you walked. As he wrapped his right arm behind your back, a quick flick of his wrist webbed up your stolen duffel and yanked it up into the air and over your heads so that he could catch it with his free left hand. You didn't realize how tiny the kid was in comparison to you until you noticed that he didn't even have to stoop to help you walk, the top of his head leveled off with the bottom of your jaw and his shoulders fit perfectly beneath your arm. Which made things even easier for you.

Quite honestly, you had been absolutely stumped on how to trap Spider-man initially. Anything that would pop, snap, or slam shut around him was effectively useless to contain the boy because it would be thwarted by that God damned Spidey sense. And if this didn't work, you would never get another chance, so everything had to be perfect. You may not have been able to out-think the likes of Tony Stark or Dr. Reed Richards, but as it turned out, you didn't need to. With a little thinking outside the box, a little hope, and a lot of favors called in, you had come to what you believed to be the only possible solution. If humans and machinery both were to inferior to stop Spider-man, then perhaps moving _fast_ was not the right way to go.

So, you went slow.

Back in the days when you had just earned your teaching certificate (and were also fairly new to the thief business) you had made several contacts in the black market. Mostly fencers, forgers, and money launderers. But everyone in the business 'knows a guy, who knows a guy' and after some heavy negotiations and a few greased palms, you had managed to get your hands on a small vile of clear liquid roughly the size of your pinky finger. It was odorless, colorless, tasteless, and according to a reputable source, had actually been originally engineered by S.H.I.E.L.D. to sedate Captain America in the event of a necessary surgery. All you needed to do was dip the tip of a sewing needle into the drug and _carefully_ attach the needle to the fingertip of your left glove. You figured, if nothing else you could just try for a wild slap, but fate and Spider-man had helped you avoid that situation. Now, you slowly lifted the ring finger on you left hand, curling it slightly so that instead of the pads of your digits pressing against his costume, the sewing needle sunk right through the outer layer of his uniform and into the skin beneath. You looked down to see if there was any indication of him feeling what had happened, but the mask left you lost. Your only clue being that he _still_ hadn't stopped chattering happily at you since he helped you up. "You were doing really good there for a while, you know?" He commented, "I almost lost you for a few seconds around Bleaker street. Hey, what's your name? I mean, other than 'The Shadow'. You're almost as good with the fighting stuff as you are with the disappearing. How do you do that, by the way?" The boy glanced up at you for a moment, the lenses on his mask were wide with honest curiosity.

"If I told you that," you looked down at him and the lenses of your domino mask narrowed in amusement, "then I'd have to destroy you." You smiled, and behind his mask, so did the young man.

"That would be very ambitious of you." He chuckled.

"You don't have to use traditional weapons to hurt someone, Peter." You felt his shoulders tense immediately at your casual use of his real name for the first time.

"What-uh, w-what did you just call…? M-my name is Spider-man, Shadow. You know… What did you…?" The child quickly tried to twist out from under your arm to get away from your grasp, but he had taken only a few steps when he started to wobble mid-stride, the super-solider sedative working just like you had hoped it would. Now you were the one supporting him. "What's-... _wuzz goin_...", if it hadn't been for the fact that he was already under your arm, the poor kid would have hit the tarmac face first. Instead you quickly shifted your weight to catch him as his legs finally gave out. " _nngh_...oh, God." He groaned as the drugs worked their way through his system, and was having enough trouble controlling his limbs that it was easier to move him by shifting around until you could pick him up bridal style.

Jesus H. Christ. This kid needed a hamburger- stat. He had to weigh 150 pounds at most. He must have been into the something similar to your own parkour style work out. Keeping fit enough to run from your pursuers (whomever they might be) while still slim enough (despite the fact that you often taped down your ample bosom) to slip through most any potential source of entrance or egress. You just sighed and walked, with Spider-man cradled in gently in your arms, the last few feet around the roof access door to what you had begun mentally referring to as your 'work-space'.

"I'm sorry we have to do things this way, kid." You said as you gently propped him up on a stack of plastic crates you had piled against the wall for that specific purpose. After making sure he wouldn't fall off, you moved over to the torn and paint stained old tarp you had covered your 'tools' with. Flinging it backward, your eyes danced over everything you'd brought with you for this mission.

The light fixture that was attached to the wall you'd propped Spider-man against gave off just enough light for what would come next, and you quickly snatched up the pair of standard issue police handcuffs, snapping them around Spider-man's wrists as they were crossed in front of him. The drugs in his system keeping him just as immobile as any normal human. You brought your hands up to frame his face for a moment, the opaque lenses on his mask making impossible to tell if he could focus enough to understand you. "A lesson learned the hard way, is a lesson learned for life. This is going to hurt you, and I want you to know that there is no way around it. I know you were raised to be a good kid, but I'm not doing this with any intention to harm you. All you have to do is help me out, okay?" He was definitely awake; every few seconds he'd try to speak or move, but the drug had been administered in just the right dosage that he could barely move his tongue enough to get out a coherent sentence, let alone get his legs under himself.

It took almost a full minute before he was able to get out the most coherent response he could so far, "What'r ya' doin'… t'me? 'S goin' on?" He was no stronger than an infant at the moment, so the hand cuffs were completely unnecessary for keeping him immobile, but they were perfect for keeping him in the proper position for what you needed. You had several options to choose from, but for now, decided to tie the poor child into the prone position. You had prepared this particular rooftop for every eventuality, and there were several anchor points in both the wall Spidey was reclined against and the flat part of the roof itself, that the cuffs were designed to fit in.

Another reach towards your workbench, and you picked up another two pairs of hand cuffs, and attached one end of each to the web crawler's ankles. The poor kid was barely able to put up a fight as you held tight, with one hand wrapped around his lower calf, thumb and pointer finger easily meeting around his Achilles tendons and held him still with minimal effort as you clipped them closed, the open halves of each of the restraints clinking quietly against the ground as he realized that he was being moved again.

* * *

Spider-man's P.O.V.:

Not far. Just a few feet away to a tattered old mattress, and what he realized with growing horror was large hooks screwed into the rooftop that the chain links of his restraints would easily fit into.

His drugged brain made the connection with exactly what was going to happen far too late and he discovered that he was still too weak to ever escape this hell.

Peter Parker didn't know how to deal with this situation, he could feel the panicked tears to start to run down his cheeks and soak through the mask. He didn't want this. ' _No_ ' was all he could think, _'I'm Spider-Man, this can't happen!_ ' After that it was all just a litany of ' _Nono-pleaseGod-No-'_ as his head was cradled gently against the warm shoulder of the woman he'd been touching himself to since he'd first laid eyes on her crawling backwards out of an air duct over a year ago.

* * *

Flashback:

He'd been fourteen and he had absolutely no idea on how to sew a single stitch. Just trying to make sure he didn't go out fighting criminals looking like a _complete_ moron in his current home-made wreck of an outfit was hard enough. But he'd managed to cobble together a costume that was somewhere in the realm of Not-Completely-Shit, while not exceeding the self imposed thrift store budget of $30.

He was still webbing about the city at random, and there hadn't been any immediate danger, so he'd been catching a 5 minute break on a building ledge when there was a small commotion across the street, and one of the vent covers on top of the building swung open. He had webbed over just in time to see an incredibly shapely pair of legs begin to slide out of the vent work feet first. They had been followed by a pair of equally shapely calves , and a thick pair of thighs that were parted just far enough for him to make out her puffy pubic mound. Following them up further, there was a thick, bubble ass, that just begged to be slapped. It jiggled perfectly as the woman's full weight finally slipped free of the vent and her feet hit the shingles of the roof. His eyes followed the curve of her back upwards as she turned to face him, and he was rewarded with the sight of largest, most beautiful, pair of breasts he had ever seen outside of porn. There had been an instant boner problem, and it had made for one of the most uncomfortable, humiliating fights of his Spider-man career. Her fighting style had almost mirrored his own and not only had she rubbed up against his hard on several times, but there had even been an instant when he had tried to pin her down and had grabbed a handful of her left breast instead. He hesitated, she struck… she got away.

* * *

His mind drifted back to the present as he felt himself be laid down gently in the center of the mattress. She moved his legs until they were spread wide enough for her to clip the trailing ends of his restraints onto the steel grommets that had been anchored to the rooftop. To lift his still cuffed hands, all she had to do was hook one finger under the hinged center of the cuffs and tug upwards, where she then hooked them into another anchored steel grommet. His restraints pulled uncomfortably at his joints, but at the moment there was no pain, and for that he was grateful for the small concession from his horrible luck. Any warm and fuzzy feelings went right out the window, however, as The Shadows masked face hovered over his own for a moment before she looked down and he could feel her gloved hands prying at the seam where his shirt tucked into his pants. He tried to struggle, but whatever he'd been dosed with -and he was sure it was something, he just didn't know how- still had him far from in-control of his body. Even his mind felt slightly out of sorts, almost like the time he'd shared his first beer with Ned, and his 12 year old self had managed to get buzzed off of half a bottle. There was even a slight euphoric feeling wriggling at the back of his mind that was urging him to - _just relax and enjoy the sensations he was experiencing, because how could anything hurt him when the world felt this wonderful_? The longer he was under the influence the farther away his panic seemed to drift. He still _knew_ this was wrong, still _knew_ he didn't want it, even _knew_ he should still be crying, he just wasn't sure why anymore?

Someone moaned; he could have sworn that he could hear Shadow laugh as her footsteps carried her away from him, and he realized it had been him. Peter turned his head to follow her movements sluggishly, and by the time his eyes could track her again, she was already returning to him, a brand new camera phone in one hand and a small tripod in the other. She carefully set the tripod up, before settling the camera on its mounting bracket at the top, and adjusting everything just so she could get an excellent video of what was about to happen. Peter managed to roll his head back towards the sky and squeeze his eyes shut in an attempt to block this out, because his about-to-be rapist was also going to film his humiliation. His breathing picked up even though his panic didn't, and he wondered at that for only a breif moment before he tried to speak again, "Nnnn-no, please. Don't." His voice was barely more than a whisper, and he had to pause for a moment to gather his mind to coherency before he could continue his plea, but it didn't matter. Before he could open his mouth, a gentle hand clamped down over it, and with his diminished strength, he couldn't find it within him to resist any further. He allowed himself to go limp.

If Shadow was going to record his rape, for God only knew what reason, at least she had left his mask on.

If she was going to tear down the identity of Spider-man, at least he still had his identity as Peter Parker to hide behind.


	3. Bad Things Happen To Good People

Alright you guys, this is where it starts. This is where it starts to get dark-dark- _dark_. I was going to put it all out in one chapter, but I figured you guys had waited long enough so I split it into two chapters. If there is anything in this story you think may trigger you, from now on I'm going to be putting up warnings on the chapters with the most offensive stuff in them, but it's still going to be an over-arching theme of the exploitation of a minor in various ways, so be prepared for that. And remember, your author loves you, and wants you to be safe and happy, so if anyone notices any possible triggers that I forgot to list in the warnings, please let me know in a review so I can correct and re-post. Thanks guys.

And though I feel like this may be asking Lucifer's favorite minions for advice... If anyone has any ideas about something they would like Shadow to say/do to Peter going forward, put it in a review an I'll try to work it into the story in the future. One reviewer (Thank you, MooNight-Winter) has already given me an idea that took the story in a vastly different direction than I was originally planning, so I promise you I _am_ listening, and you _will_ get credit where it's due.

 **Warnings for this chapter:** Child molestation, black-mail, and manipulation. This will lead to the rape of a minor in later chapters.

* * *

 **Your P.O.V.:**

You sighed as you saw the boy go limp under you, and Parker's own warm exhalation of breath ghosted across the back of your hand. You wished you could see his face, or at the very least his eyes; use the unveiling of his identity to blackmail him into being complicit in his own rape. A concept that left a truly awful taste in your mouth, but as with the rest of the plan, a necessity to keep the Spider-man (and by extension, the law) off your case and out of your life. And despite the ugliness of it all, you felt rather serene about the entire situation. You knew what had to be done to keep yourself safe, and were taking what would rather astutely observed as a _perverse_ pleasure in making sure that it was done well.

It was a simple thing to pull off the mask and turn Spider-man back into Peter Parker. The poor child looked even more pitiable than usual, and when he felt the drag of cloth over his face he began to thrash as much as possible; which was to say that he jerked his head slowly from side to side, and rattled his wrist and ankle cuffs slightly. "No." His sudden burst of panic forced the word out faster and more coherently than any so far, before he began slurring again, "Nnnno. Stop. Plsssss sss-st-stop." He sobbed once, before the drugs overran his mind, and the fuzzy feeling clouded his thoughts until he, again, couldn't remember why he was ever scared in the first place.

You tossed the mask and attached goggles in the general direction of your work table and moved your hand to lay softly over his forehead, using your fingernails to gently comb over his scalp. You pitched your voice like you were speaking to an easily startled animal, as you finally looked into his eyes, "Pete, I need you to calm down." You soothed, as you trailed the fingertips of your un-occupied hand down his face you dragged your thumb over his lower lip, your eyes following the movement as you pulled it down gently.

You couldn't help but admire him, now that you had the opportunity. Peter was truly a blessed young man when it came to the looks department. The dark brown hair that was as silky soft as you had imagined; those big brown, puppy-dog eyes that had gotten him out of trouble with you on more than one occasion; that square jaw that was just a hint of how handsome he would be when he grew up; and you regretted that you were only now noticing what a vivid shade of pink his lips were.

As a professional teacher, you had never in your life taken a physical interest in any of your students. Not due entirely to some holier-than-thou internal moral code (as evidenced by your night time career, you didn't have much of one to speak of), but more so due to the fact that teenagers tended to be all knees, elbows, and acne, not to mention mouthy little shits besides. But studying Peter...perhaps it was the sense of immense respect you felt for all he had gone through in his life and still managed to become the hero that _he_ had needed as a child. It may have also helped that his mutation gave the boy a considerable physique. His body looked like he had trained his entire life to achieve peak physical fitness. He was at the age where growth spurts were common, and you could tell he had grown several inches since he had first entered your classroom because now he no longer needed to actually tilt his head back slightly to stare at your cleavage when you were handing back papers. After a moment you snapped out of the trance his supple teenage features had ensnared you in, and continued just as quietly as before, "I'm going to cover your eyes again, no one will recognize you. Just stay still." With that, you stood.

Your eyes roaming over his ridiculous costume, you scoffed, before turning again to your work-space. This time you retrieved a scalpel, as well as the red bandanna you had packed for this specific reason. You strolled casually back toward your captive, making sure to hide the scalpel behind your wrist as you came closer. There was no need for him to panic about physical pain. At least not at this point, but the moment wasn't far off either.

You knelt down so your knees were on either side of his head and quickly flicked your wrist so that the scalpel's edge cut through the seams at both shoulders of his red vest, then tucked the tool under your wrist gauntlet as you used both hands to unzip the front, before tugging the fabric out from underneath him and tossing it over into a pile with his mask. The bandanna you had folded into a strip wide enough to cover his eyes, with a trailing corner that you could pull up to cover his hair as well. Your fingers threaded through the loose strands briefly before you lifted his head to slip the folded fabric beneath it, knotting it carefully over the bridge of his nose. You couldn't resist smiling as Peter unintentionally crossed his eyes while trying to focus on what your hands were doing, and you lifted his head once more to spin the fabric so that the knot was at the back. You pulled the trailing corner up over his hair and tucked it underneath the knot made by the blindfold section, then tugged gently to make sure it would stay in place if Peter started tossing his head. You stood and stepped over and around his limbs so you were standing next to his torso before kneeling once more to cut through and remove the cheap, blue, sweatshirt. You moved down his body, removing his bright red socks and shoes, and tossing them over where they tumbled to a stop next to the pile of his other clothing; his mask still sitting on top, the goggles staring lifelessly ahead at their owner like one more witness to his humiliation.

Peter made a noise halfway between a grunt and a sob as you removed both of your work gloves and splayed the fingers of your exposed right hand across his skin, gently laying your palm over his naked stomach. You could feel his muscles, like corded steel beneath your hand, jump and twitch as they tried in vain to tense up, and you gently pushed down where he was trying to arch off the mattress. You twisted your wrist slightly, indulgently tracing over the naked skin that had been finally been bared to you. You dug in your finger tips as you stroked lower, just barely brushing the elastic of his sweatpants, and the drugged young man gave a shuddering sigh. You were suddenly gripped with the urge to press further, but ultimately decided that such an act would best be preserved for the up coming video. You made a soft noise of happiness at what you knew was coming, and the bound young man seemed to relax a bit more at the sound, as if hearing your pleasure pleased him just as deeply. But whatever sentiment had gripped you in that moment faded suddenly, and you removed your hand, standing to move to the camera phone, finally setting it up to begin recording.

"For those of you who may not know who this is..." you explained, still standing behind the camera as you leveled it to capture the best view of your captive, "this," you zoomed in on the young man in front of you, " _This_ is your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man." Your mocking tone left no room for argument as to just how you felt about the Web Crawler. "Now, now. I know most of you out there are thinking: _'Impossible! Not Spider-Man! It just can't be!'_ ", you sighed, stepping a little closer so as to get a different angle of his deliciously lithe and half naked body, before taking a step back and swinging the camera around to settle on the pile of red and blue cloth you had cut off of him, his mask easily visible on top of the pile. "Well that's where you'd be wrong my friends. That. Is where you'd. Be wrong." You turned back to your captive, and settled the phone back on it's tripod, making sure to get an angle that would allow for the best view, without exposing your face and as little of your body as possible. You didn't want to have to keep stopping just to fiddle with your camera, it would ruin the moment for far a more important reason than dramatic tension. You finally settled on a high angle, slightly to the left and about two inches above his left ankle, the camera looking up the length of his body and looking down from about three feet. Once you got started you would have to keep Peter's mind busy with sensation and careful words, or he might not be able to relax enough for your plan to work. Peter's enjoyment of what was going to happen would need to be obvious on film, or it would just come off as an assault. Not to mention he would be humiliated ten fold, and as a male victim, he would never be treated seriously by any of the legal systems set in place to help people like himself.

You hummed softly to yourself in happiness as you finally settled between his legs, the tops of your thighs pressed tightly enough to the bottom of Peters that you could feel the heat of his skin seeping through both layers of your clothing. Only a fraction of the left side and back of your skin-tight suit was visible from your knees to just above your hips, just as you'd planned. You gently placed your hands just above his knees, and ran them slowly up to his hips. You smiled as he unconsciously arched up into your touch with a soft gasp; his drugged mind doing all it could to chase the pleasant sensation. Your next step was to pull the scalpel out of your gauntlet once more, and twist slightly at the waist as you reached out with your free hand to grab the elastic band at the left ankle of his sweats. You lifted and held it taut with two fingers while you slipped your blade under the fabric, and pressed sharply upward and forward, cutting cleanly up to his knee. Dropping the useless pieces, you re-adjusted your hand until you could repeat the process up to the waistband, and again on his right leg.

When you finally finished, you bent forward slightly and used your free hand to slip under his lower back and lift him gently as you ripped the fabric out from beneath him, then lowered him back to the mattress with just as much care. You smiled, and damn near giggled when you realized that he had even color-coordinated his undies, and the tighty-whiteys he had on were bright red with a dark blue elastic. You tucked away the scalpel, and repeated your actions from earlier; stroking your hands slowly over the newly exposed skin between his knees and thighs, stopping here and there to rub gentle circles with your thumbs. "Oh, _Spider-Man_..." You sighed as your hands drifted further up over his abs to circle the tips of both your middle fingers to around his nipples, your feather light touches causing them to pebble into soft points that made your self control finally buckle and snap.

You couldn't help yourself as you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the center of his chest, causing Peter to gasp and shudder. His lithe young body shivered beneath you once more as you trailed your lips over his skin, kissing tenderly over his right pectoral. When you reached his nipple you suckled it into your mouth and nipped sharply at its peak, causing Peter to arch into your touch almost violently, his high pitched cry of pleasure quickly winding down into a quiet whimpering that suddenly increased in volume when you repeated the process on his left side. You pushed your hands to his shoulders to keep him from squirming too much -the love bites you pressed across his chest continuing to make him writhe and twitch beneath you- as you allowed your hands to drift downward to play with the hardened peaks. You began to move your kisses upwards, licking and sucking marks over his shoulders, up his neck, and over his jawline.

You paused for a moment at the corner of his mouth, something inside saying that this kiss would be one you would treasure in the future, and thus you should take a moment to appreciate the gravity of its implications. You couldn't help yourself, the soft flesh seemed to be _begging_ to be kissed, and you dipped your head. At first your lips touched his in the barest brush of skin against skin, and the feeling like an electrical current was zipping through you at the contact must have been mutual, because Peter inhaled sharply through his nose before moaning lewdly and craning his neck up to begin kissing back without a moments hesitation. His chest was heaving due to the combination of lust and fear you had instilled in him from the moment you had called him by his civilian name. You would have thought that as young as he was, Peter would be a virgin when it came to _all things_ relating to physical love, but this wasn't the first time he had proven your assumptions about him wrong, as even in his drugged and blindfolded state he managed to instinctively tilt his head and slot his mouth up against your own on the first try. He pressed himself up into several lingering chaste kisses before you nipped softly at his lower lip, and he opened his mouth obediently, allowing your tongues to dance together. You abruptly forced yourself to pull back, needing to keep your mind focused on the fact that you were doing this for _business_ , not pleasure. Upon leaning back once more Peter tried to chase after the sensation and leaned upwards as far as his restraints would allow. You licked your lips, appreciating the unique taste he had left on your tongue as you caressed across his upper body, giving his slender form another once-over as his weakened muscles caused his upper half to collapse back to the mattress. You could see that a heavy blush had flushed his cheeks and neck almost the same beautiful shade of bubble-gum pink as his lips. Half a dozen little love bites covered his upper chest, his nipples a vivid red-pink, unused to the rough treatment to which he was being subjected. You allowed your hands to follow the same path as your eyes, as your gaze drifted further downward, and you smirked when you noted his now rather _prominent_ arousal pressing against his briefs. The thick outline of his member had to measure at least seven inches, and looked like it was just thick enough that you could easily wrap your hand around the shaft.

You cupped your hand around the obvious outline of his cock, smirking to yourself when his soft moan changed to a high pitched whine and his soft gasp of, "Oh my _God_! _Hnnng_!". Needy whimpers spilled from his mouth as you allowed him to instinctively grind up into your hand, the drug coursing through his veins allowed him to snap his hips forward without restraint or shame. " _Please!_ " He sobbed with desperation, "Please. I-I-just... _please!_ " though at this point it wasn't clear if he wanted you to stop or if he wanted more. Either way, it wouldn't matter. You were going give him everything you had.


	4. The Right Hand of Mercy

Hello everyone, welcome back. Once again I feel I've left you guys waiting a little too long, so I'm putting out a shorter chapter than usual. But I feel like where this cuts off is the best stopping point before things really get going.

If you guys have any suggestions for anything you want to do to/happen to Peter, let me know and I'll try to work it into the story, you will of course, receive credit. Leave a review if you guys like it. The more reviews I see the more motivated I am to write, means the faster you guys get more to read.

As always: Thank you for reading, and I hope you guys enjoy.

 **Warnings for this chapter** : Molestation and sexual assault/rape of a minor, humiliation, and blackmail.

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Regardless of what he was truly pleading for, you decided for him that it was a craving for your touch that had caused his outburst, and continued to fondle the young man through his only remaining article of clothing. Though, at this point the briefs were doing little to hide the rigid outline of his cock against the fabric; Peter had been gifted with both length and thickness that you knew would be feel wonderful once it was inside you. But now was not the time for your pleasure, Peter would have to come first, in both senses of the word.

When you determined that he was finally at full hardness, you pulled your hand away from his cock to hook your finger under the elastic waistband and pull it away from Peter's skin so that you could safely use your scalpel to make the last few cuts necessary to expose him completely, not only to your eyes, but to the camera as well. It only took a few seconds to do, but Peter was so eager for release that the moment the warm friction of your palm left him, he gave a sharp whine, his fingers clawed at the soft surface beneath him, and he pressed his hips up as far as he could before you gently pushed him back to mattress and forced him to keep still while you worked. Two small cuts later, you finally had no more use for your cutting tool, and when you pulled what was left of Peter's briefs out from under him, you tossed both scalpel and fabric away and over to the pile of his now ruined costume to be destroyed later.

 _'Finally'_ , was all you could think for several seconds as your eyes swept over the exquisite example of human perfection that was Peter Parker's nude form. The lithe young teenager wasn't at his full height yet, but in the next few years you knew he would shoot up like a weed, he would probably gain at least a foot before he was finished growing. And he seemed to be keeping a healthy muscle mass, bulking up at a fairly even pace so that his body never hit that awkward teenager phase of being all knees-and-elbows. Already so strong and mature inside, it was just a matter of time before the baby-fat melted away from his rounded cheeks, and he would look just as mature on the outside. And more than just being arousing, it would work to your advantage as far as your recording was concerned. Yes his face looked young, but that was also the only part of him that was covered. Judging solely by the proportions of his body, he looked like a grown -if not relatively small- man.

He hissed as the cool night air finally washed over his throbbing cock in a cruel imitation of your own warm caress. "O- _oooh._ " He huffed, "Please. Please. I need...I _need_ , _please!_ " He stopped suddenly and pressed his lips together as tightly as he could, like it was the only thing keeping him from full-on begging for his release.

All you had to do was align your fingers with his jaw line, press the pad of your thumb to his chin and pull down gently, and Parker obediently relaxed under your careful ministrations. His cotton candy colored lips were exposed to you once more and you couldn't help yourself; you dove in for another kiss, this one longer and much more intense than the first. Not wasting a moment, you immediately drove your tongue into his mouth, your grip on his jaw allowed you to easily hold him in place and move him exactly as you pleased. As you completely dominated his mouth with your tongue, Parker couldn't help but moan into the kiss, your own confidence just as soothing a balm to his nerves as the soft caresses of your hands were to his shaking body. You could feel the heat of his bare chest beginning to sink through your jumpsuit, your own nipples peaking in arousal, and had to break the kiss abruptly before you could get too carried away with your own pleasure. The virginal young man beneath you panted when your lips left his, letting out soft whimpers with each exhale, his face and neck flushed rose petal pink with a combination of fear and arousal that would have a lasting effect on his mind well into adulthood.

"Good boy." You cooed at him as you panted slightly, sat back up again, and waited a moment for your breathing to return to normal before speaking in your best bedroom voice, "Such a good, good, boy for me. And good boys get rewards...Do you want your reward, Spider-Man?", you asked, tracing invisible patterns on his quivering thighs once more.

You thought your only response would be the soft sob of frustration that came just after your question, but then you heard it again; barely whispered, but he had said it, "Please." Far too quiet for the camera to pick up, you teased him by slowly inching your hands up his thighs as you asked him to repeat himself, and he all but screamed, " _Please!_ Please, touch me! For the love of _God_! Please! I need it! I need it. I..." He his begging began to lose momentum as he realized he had not just confessed but had outright _begged_ , out loud, his desperation for his rapist to continue violating him.

Though there was a part of you that desperately wanted to laugh at the conflict obviously happening in the boys head, you took advantage of the fact that he had squeezed his eyes shut in his distraction, and instead reached for the pile of toys you had brought over from your workbench and dropped next to the mattress. You had to shuffle back a bit, and shift your weight a few times to get the leather harness secured tightly around your waist over your jumpsuit, but with a few sharp tugs just to be certain, it was set perfectly with no wiggle room for once you really got things started. The six inch black silicone cock that now distended your crotch was average in girth, and gracefully arched gently upwards , in a wonderful imitation of the real thing. It certainly wasn't the largest strap-on you could find, but you wanted to humiliate and pleasure the boy, not split him in half. You knee walked forward until your thighs were pressed against his once more, making sure that your fake cock was easily visible to the camera as you reached for the small tube of lube you would need next. It only took a few seconds to remove the cap, squeeze out the appropriate amount, and liberally coat your new appendage from base to tip. In order to keep things from getting too messy, you reached for your pile of toys, pulled out an old oil rag to wipe the remaining gel off your hand, before you snapped open the cap on the lube again. You squeezed one more dime sized drop on to the tips of the middle and pointer fingers on your right hand, and tossed it back a second time.

Peter jumped slightly as you wrapped the fingers of your free hand danced a teasing caress of sensation across the back of his knee and downwards until the flat of your palm was caressing his perfectly rounded ass. You stretched your thumb out to pull his ass cheeks apart from one side, to expose and appreciate the clenched pucker of his virgin asshole. "Just try to relax, sweetie. It'll make things easier on both of us." The humor in your tone went unappreciated by the desperate young man, who squirmed as you applied the warmed lube to the entrance of his twitching hole.

The drug you had dosed him with had done its work in relaxing Peter, and there was almost no resistance as your middle finger thrust slowly past the outer ring of muscle. Peter began to moan as you sunk in to your first knuckle, and withdrew just as slowly. The sounds were ambiguous as to weather they were pleasured or pained, but you could could tell from his flagging erection and measured breathing, he was at least uncomfortable with the alien sensation of being penetrated. Easily remedied by wrapping your left hand around his cock, and pumping in time with the finger still violating his asshole. You repeated the process again and again, curling your finger slightly as you pushed deeper each time. Youth and mutation on his side, he was rock hard and whining to be allowed to come just as enthusiastically as before. His entire body seemed spasm at once when you finally located his prostate. At first, the tip of your finger had brushed gently past it, and he had gasped quietly at the sensation, but you had known exactly what you'd found. The next thrust you had added your pointer finger, teasing him again by only thrusting forward one finger joint at a time. You curled your fingers gently as you pulled them back, and searched again for his prostate as you tightened your grip around his cock.

It took you both by surprise when he came.

Thick ropes of semen exploded from his cock so suddenly, you didn't have the time to 'aim' it, and with the end result, you decided that you honestly couldn't have done better if you'd tried. His cum shot out in an upward arch, thick ropes and small droplets alike painting his body from navel to hairline. His hips snapped forward as he came, his entire body spasming as his mouth gaped wide open in a silent scream. His hips snapped forward repeatedly out of pure instinct, mindlessly trying to rut his still cock against something that was never there. The young man exhaled in one long sigh as he thought he would finally, _finally_ , able to relax. Not knowing that things were only just getting started, or all that he would have to endure before he could rest.

The final product of his orgasm was so utterly pornographic, and undeniably erotic that you had to preserve it, for posterity sake, of course. Peter Parker, tied up tight, covered in his own cum, flushed and whimpering from over-sensitivity? Yes, please. You tapped the little camera icon in the corner of the phone screen to make sure you had at least one separate picture for yourself before you returned to the video screen, and shifted to lean back into Peter once more.

You continued to pump him through his orgasm, never once letting up, even when he was thrashing his hips around. You had pulled your fingers out of his ass as he came, but now you were once more circling his rapidly fluttering asshole, applying gentle pressure with two fingers until you could ease back in.

" _Ah! Oooh~!_ " The boy whined as you deliberately overstimulated him, "No more." He begged, panting for breath between words. "Please. I just-I mean I-" He cut himself off with a silent scream as you began scissoring the two fingers you had been gently rocking back and forth inside him.

"Spider-man, that was beautiful. And we still have a _looong_ way to go, believe it or not." you said as you gently began to press your ring finger in beside the other two, the quivering ring of his asshole giving way to your lubed up fingertips a little more with each thrust.

"N-no." He stuttered for a moment, "I can't. _I can't_ -I just-"

"I know you did, my Little Spider-Sweetheart." A deaf man could have heard the mocking tone of voice you used as you cut him off. "I know. And, trust me on this, you _can_. You can, and by the time I'm done with you, you will."


	5. Left Hand of Darkness

Warnings for this chapter include: Statutory rape, exploitation/manipulation of a minor, humiliation, degradation, mind games, and blackmail.

Please do not read if you're triggered by any of these things. Your author loves you, and wants you to stay safe and happy.

As always let me know how you guys feel in a review... (Hint: They motivate me to write faster!)

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A ragged sounding moan was the only answer you recieved, but contrary to what he enunciated, Peter was alternating between thrusting up into the fist wrapped around his cock, and grinding back down into the fingers violating his asshole. He gave a soft sob of breath when you finally bottomed out with all three fingers for the first time, and a moaning whimper as you stimulated his prostate while slowly pulling back, only to let out a gasp when you immediately slammed your fingers back into him; repeating the process again and again, demonstrating exponentially less care and more speed each time.

His hands clenched open and shut, pulling as hard as he could against his restraints, as he measured his breathing in time with the quick push and drag of your fingers inside him. All he could manage was a slight rattle of the chain links before his weakened extremities simply gave out again. So instead he twisted his wrists until he could wrap his fingers around his metal bonds, the muscles of his forearms tensing and flexing each time your fingers bottomed out inside him.

The next time you heard him moan in response to your ministrations, you knew it was finally time to test the boy; see if Peter was ready to hand himself over to you fully. There were more than a few ways to manipulate someone, but having Parker _ask_ you to take control was the best way to make sure it was both strong and long-lasting.

As you twisted your wrist, you slowed on the upstroke of Peters cock, easing off on pressure as you went, until your fingers just barely grazed over the head as you pulled away entirely. The response you were looking for was instantaneous, and you thought you'd have to work harder for it. The young man sucked in a sharp hiss of air, his stomach muscles tensed like he'd been mule kicked in the gut as he spoke up exactly how you hoped he would. "Wha-what are you doing? N-no, don't..." his breath stuttered slightly as he clamped his mouth shut so forcefully that his lips turned white for a moment. Despite his attempt to silence himself, there was a soft, short, tell-tale whimper that he couldn't stop.

"Don't what, Spider-man?" You taunted, trying to drag out the rest of his confession, and while he didn't trust himself to respond verbally, he did vigorously shake his head 'No' at you. You continued to pump your fingers inside his asshole, making sure to drag viciously against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside him with every stroke as you spoke to the young man, "Don't _what_ , Spider-man?" You cooed sweetly as he gasped from the sudden overstimulation.

"Oh, _God_! Don't stop! Please- _ah_ -, please, please, don't stop! I can't-", he gasped, "I can't cum without being touched. _Please_ don't stop." He outright sobbed, "I n-need it. Please. Oh, God, please." Truthfully that had been all you needed to hear, but Peter didn't know that, and the poor boy continued to babel as you finger fucked him senseless, "Need you to - _ah, hah, nnngh_ \- to touch me. I _need_ it. Your hands, oh God, your _hands_ -! _Nnngh-ah!_ Please, I'll do anything, j-just touch me- _ah-!_ "

"I might be able to help you with that." You said as he turned his head to the side, and pressed his face against his bicep in an attempt to focus and keep from being overwhelmed. " _Might_." You stressed the word, "If you can promise me something, Spider-man." You didn't wait for the question you knew was coming before you explained, "I want you to promise me that you're going to be a good boy for me. That means from now on, you do exactly as I tell you, when I tell you, without you can do that?"

Peter nodded vigorously, " _Yes!_ Yes, anything, just touch m-m-my...please. Y-you can't just tease me - _ah_ \- ...like this and then not... let..."

Something seemed to dawn on him suddenly, but you cut him off before he could spiral himself into a panic about it, "Oh, Goodness no, Spider-Sweetie. Goodness, no." Your tone was somehow comforting and condescending all at once, "I promise I don't intend to get you all riled up and then just leave you like this: bound, naked and alone, helpless against the whims of any dirty little perverts who just _happen_ to know where you are..."

Peter pressed his lips together tightly and produced a shaking inhale at the scenario that had never crossed his mind. He had no idea how long Shadows drugs were going to last, and if she broke her promise and left him here... She could tell _anyone_ where he was, or even worse... she could tell _everyone_ where he was. And- Oh God, she could even tell everyone _who_ he was! Suddenly his situation had gone from Waking Nightmare to Living Hellscape...and yet, he was still floating on that drug induced high that was giving him a wonderful buffer against what should have been a rising panic attack. Instead it allowed him to focus on the fact that he had no idea that one of his kinks was apparently being violated by anonymous strangers, his current situation apparently included, as he continued to rhythmically try to rock down into the fingers caressing his asshole while imagining a small crowd of shadow-faced strangers was watching and waiting for their own turns with his body. Anyone. _Anyone_ in New York could just... do whatever they wanted to him, and... He could almost feel it. Dozens of phantom hands caressing over every inch of his body, pinching and teasing in all his most sensitive places.

"No my darling Spider, my little mixture was designed to hit hard and fast, but it doesn't last long -by comparison- to the original formula, so I'm going to be making the most of the relatively short time we're going to have together. And don't you worry, you're going to love every second of it, I'll make sure of that." Anyone who didn't know you would think your smile was born of genuine amusement; anyone who _did_ know you would see it for the mocking gesture that it really was.

But all Peter could see was a chilling omen of his future.

"You never answered me, my sweet one." You reminded him, speeding up the fingers violating his asshole and making sure not to stimulate his prostate accidently. "Are you going to be a good boy for me? Hmm?"

He didn't respond for several seconds, and becoming impatient, you sighed and began to slowly slide your fingers out of him completely. Just as your fingertips began to slip out of his slick hole, he finally broke completely, "YES!" He shouted at a surprising volume, " _Yes_ , I'll be good! I will!" His sudden burst of energy dissipated as quickly as it arrived when you paused. "I swear. Please don't go." You couldn't help but bask in the glow of victory for a few seconds as you removed your hand from between his legs entirely. "Nonono _no_! I promised I'd be good! I'll do _anything_ , just please don't leave-" he cut himself off with a sharp gasp as you shifted forward and the tip of your strap-on pressed gently against the now gaping ring of his asshole.

You chuckled and hummed softly, pushing forward just enough so that ring of muscle was stretched even wider by the head of the your fake cock. Even though you desperately wanted to keep watching the thrilling saga of emotions dancing across Peter's delicate features, you looked down to where the two of you were so intimately connected and took advantage of the slight slack in his restraints to slip your hands under his thighs, slowly guiding your feather light touch up to the under curve of his perky little behind. There you dug your fingers in, softly massaging the area before using one hand to pull his cheeks further apart, and the other to grasp the base of your strap-on, wanting the loss of his virginity to be as physically pleasurable as possible, given the circumstances it was occurring under.

"Now," you demanded as you met his eyes once more, "Beg for it."

"What!?" Peter panted, breathing heavily as he dug his heels into the mattress and tried to use what little leverage he could get to push down on the dick stretching him just barely further than your fingers had, but you were ready for it and used the hand holding his pert little behind open to keep him from shifting. When he dug his heels in, you were forced to use your other hand for a moment to keep him still, and you suddenly realized that either you had lost track of time while having fun, or your drug was wearing off much faster than you had thought it would. Hopefully you'd be able to keep your new play toy entertained long enough that he wouldn't notice until you could re-sedate him and make your escape with your evidence.

"You've already done it more than once tonight. One more time shouldn't be too hard for you, should it? Just tell me _exactly_ what you want. That's all I need to hear.", you quietly reasoned with him.

Peter tried get away with squirming a bit and whining instead of answering verbally as he pressed down on your false cock again. You simply released his behind and pinned his hips still with both hands as you sighed in in frustration. "You promised to do what I told you, Spider-Man, without question. Are you already breaking your promise? Because that would be... disappointing. I'll just-"

"Okay!", he shouted before you could even finish speaking, let alone move away from him. "Alright, you win." Blindfolded or not, you didn't need to see his face to tell he was glaring in direction of your voice. He took a few deep, steadying, breaths before finally deciding where to begin degrading himself for your amusement. "Please fu-fuck me...?" It was soft, hesitant, and much like his academic work, could have used some improvement.

You released his hip with one hand, bringing it down sharply on the side of his ass cheek, "Try again." You deadpanned as he hissed sharply.

He hadn't exactly expected that to satisfy his captor, but it had been worth a try. Peter exhaled sharply through his nose, and this time, actually sounded aroused and sincere, "Please fuck me. You've teased me so damn long already. It felt so good when you had your fingers inside me. Feels empty now. Please, I need you inside me. I want it, I want- _OhGod_ -!"

One flex of your hips was enough. The sudden, violent thrust made Peter moan like a whore as you filled him completely. The soft clap of leather on skin as his ass slapped flush against the base of your harness was almost as satisfying to you as it was to him, his breathy whimpers such beautiful music to your ears you knew right then that you had made the right choice in doing this. You pulled back slowly as you lowered your head to press a line of chaste kisses over his shoulder and up his neck, and Peter whined like a bitch in heat, obediently exposing the milky expanse of his throat to your ministrations. It took all the self control you had not to ravish the poor boy immediately; instead slowly and steadily increasing your pace as you pulled back, still leaning over him but not sitting up completely. You could feel the head of his rigid cock slapping against your lower stomach and you knew the precome leaking from the tip was smearing across the stomach of your stealth suit with each snap of your hips.

For a moment you wondered if it pained him at all, but any worry went out the window when Peter, entirely unprompted, began to beg for your touch. "- _Ah_ \- _Hmmm_. Please touch my c-cock!" Whatever shame he'd started with had either been lost or overcome in the heat of the moment you realized as he continued, "You kn- _ow_ I c- _can't_ cum without-"

"You will." You ordered and removed your right hand from his hip, letting fingertips dance teasingly across the skin of his stomach.

He actually sobbed out a soft "No, please..." when your fingers traced around the outline of his cock, and never once touching it, began to travel upwards. Your digits instead wrapping around the smooth column of his throat and squeezing lightly. Not nearly hard enough to restrict air flow, but just enough that he understood who was in charge.

"You're going to cum when I tell you to." You growled at him, "Not before. Not after. Disobey and you _will_ be punished for it, understand?" When there was no answer immediately forthcoming, you pulled your hand back just long enough to deliver another sharp slap to his blushing asscheeks before wrapping around his neck once more.

He sobbed a breathy moan before he licked his lips and answered, "Yes...I un-under _sta_ -and." You could hear the defeat in his voice as much as the desperation as you continued to piston in and out of him.

And even though he didn't realize it at the time, that was the moment he finally became yours.


End file.
